


Something to hold on to

by bloodandcream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Not Canon Compliant, PWP, Thigh Holsters, human cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 10:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1815445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She rode him like that, against the wood table, knees digging in, thighs clasped around him, weapon against Castiel’s thigh a reminder of his frailty, he needed protection, needed the ingenuity that humans could offer, no matter how frail or how terribly ephemeral they were, humans could be horribly clever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something to hold on to

Meg’s lips curled in a satisfied grin as she sidled closer to him.

Fingers tucked under the tight strap of leather, nails stuck against stiff material, tugging, pulling.

“Mmm and what’s this for now?”

“Dean insisted I carry a weapon now that I’m more….. vulnerable.”

“Oh yeah? What happened to your angel blade then?”

“You know I’m not an angel any more.”

“Funny thing is, I’m still as much a demon I ever was.”

Palm pressed flat against hard thigh, fingers curled, tugging him till hips were flush, bodies pressed close together, one of her legs pushing between his, Meg twisted an arm around his waist, the loose blue shirt he had taken to wearing folding and bunching under her hold, pressing against the dip of his back that curved before his ass pushed out, up under the hem of his shirt, heat of skin and drag of nails there. 

“Not quite so much, I suspect.”

She knew that he knew just how to angle his words, to get what he wanted, and if it was a rough night he was in for, she could prove just what she was so many times over to him.

Stifling any response with her lips on his, Meg pushed him back till he halted against the edge of the kitchen table, rough wooden thing, solid hewn and made to last, she pulled him by the holster till his thigh was jacked up around her waist and she angled him back onto the table, butchers block, solid wood and thick legs, a thing made to last, a thing outside time.

Cas didn’t know what to say, she suspected he never really did, and that was ok, she was more than eager to steal any awkward stilted sort of recompensation he might imagine, hands pushing his shirt up over strong shoulders, glide of muscle, skin tan and taut over lithe frame while he moved just how she suggested, just where.

Nimble fingers on the button of his jeans, his cock was out and standing proud in her smooth palm, Meg smiling down at her angel, sweet thing, he knew just what he was doing but he didn’t truly know, he couldn’t comprehend, but she would have him, any way, as an angel, as a madman, as someone broken and someone whole, she even wanted him as a frail human, she wanted all of him. Wanted to taste, to know, to piece him all together and break him apart. Wanted it all.

Tossing his shirt aside, pants pulled down the angle of his hips halted where the holster started, lines of dark black leather and gun heavy there. Meg pushed up against the table, moving to crawl over him, straddling his lap, jeans worked down the curve of her hips and legs bare as she toed them off clambering on the table, a tangle of clothes and limbs and fingers and tongues. Straddling his still jean clad thighs she pulled her shirt over her head, arching to reach behind and unclasp her bra, the two of them mostly naked, pale skin accentuated in the moonlight through thin curtains as fingers skipped up the lines of his torso.

It didn’t matter if his pants were still on, his cock was out, she liked the weight of his weapon next to her thigh, thick and cold metal, pressed hard lines against the inner of her thigh, the metal of buckles scratching against skin, leather dragging. Meg braced her arms to either side of his head, wavy dark hair fallen over her shoulder, a curtain around both their heads, blue eyes on brown, smirks wide. Angling her hips, she pushed down on him, easy and smooth, cunt slick already and his cock twitching up into her.

She rode him like that, against the wood table, knees digging in, thighs clasped around him, weapon against Castiel’s thigh a reminder of his frailty, he needed protection, needed the ingenuity that humans could offer, no matter how frail or how terribly ephemeral they were, humans could be horribly clever. It dug into her thigh, into her skin, as she knelt up and ground down on him, his calloused hands on her hips gripping her tight.

He was different like this, different as a human, all his intellect and all his potential suddenly confined to something so finite and so weak. It was astounding.


End file.
